


Of Sky and Land and Inbetween

by DrunkGerbil



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Animal Photography, Epic Friendship, Established Relationship, Filming, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, John the car, Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mongolia, Mud, Shower Sex, The Crew - Freeform, gratuitous landscape descriptions, mentions of knee injury, or the failed attempts thereof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrunkGerbil/pseuds/DrunkGerbil
Summary: It’s their greatest adventure yet, and after eighteen years, that really means something. Follow their epic quest through the biggest, emptiest place in the world.Will they reach civilization before they starve? Will they freeze to death? Will they murder each other? Will Richard get into James‘ pants?
Relationships: Richard Hammond/James May
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Of Sky and Land and Inbetween

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sistersophie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistersophie/gifts).



> This was my entry for Secret Santa, for the magnificent sistersophie <3
> 
> PROMPT 2: Something centered around the boys' heroic efforts during the Mongolian Special, and some celebratory sexy!times after it's all over.  
> PROMPT 3: The boys are tinkering with cars or bikes, getting really sweaty and greasy, and wash each other up afterwards. Make it sexy!

Day 1

Obviously, they know the general challenge before they are dropped in the middle of the wilderness of Mongolia. They have practiced building the car, both indoors and on a windswept field on Jeremy’s property. They roughly know the way, even if Andy had forbidden the three of them to look at the footage the location scouts had taken on the first trip. 

That doesn’t change the fact that they have a monumental journey in front of them. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to be marvelous.

The sun beats down on them mercilessly as they film the intro. There is no shade in this part of the country - close to the Gobi desert the vegetation is sparse - but the air is crisp. Land locked, Richard thinks. No matter, they will all be sunburned by the end of it, as usual.

The valley they start in is breathtaking already, and while the crew is busy setting things up for the arrival of the chopper, Richard wanders off a bit to appreciate the sheer magnitude of this land.  
Here, the earth he walks upon might never have been touched, or even seen, by another human being. An empire unrivaled in its size, but also in its emptiness. Only a few hundred feet away from their start point, with the team at his back and the wind drowning out their voices, Richard feels completely and utterly alone in the world. 

Or not entirely alone, he amends as James appears at his side. 

Richard isn’t sure what expression he is wearing, but it prompts James to ask, “Alright?” 

His voice is soft, and there’s a slight frown on his face. His hand hovers over the small of Richard’s back, fingertips brushing the cloth, almost touching. Warmth chases away Richard’s sombre mood. He smiles, not turning from the view just yet, and bumps his shoulder against James’ arm. It wraps around him as if it had only waited for the signal.

“Yes. Just feeling very small,” he explains.

“How is that any different from usual?” James asks, and squeaks when Richard immediately pinches his side. 

"This will be epic," Richard decides, grinning brightly up at James who is glowing in the strange, harsh light, standing in front of a backdrop that almost appears unreal. Like it's a greenscreen in a studio. But they are actually here, actually doing this.  
James grins back, and Richard can't help but steal a kiss before turning and marching back to the crew. 

Then the chopper arrives, and work begins. 

~

The boxes land quite far apart. They have underestimated how much time and energy it takes to carry all of the parts to the assembly spot.  
The problem isn't so much that they had a proper workshop at home, because even on Jeremy's field there had been some semblance of order. Out here, it's their natural dispositions that get in the way of each other. Namely, James counts and orders their tools, Richard drops everything everywhere and gets impatient.  
Soon, they are yelling, and only partly for the cameras. Also, the sand. It’s a lot sandier here than in good old wet England. Less mud, though, which is definitely a plus. One he keeps reminding himself and James of when the wind whips dust into their eyes again. 

Jeremy, true to form, stays far away from any physical labor. He still wanders over periodically, but only to disturb them in their work by complaining and making fun of them. On one of his visits, when they are squabbling again and eating the disgusting food that Jeremy ruined, he decrees that Richard is in charge of construction. James demands a vote, but is promptly ignored.

“Okay, I’m only doing what Hammond tells me to do,” he snarks, and turns towards Richard. 

“Sir, not wishing to speak out of turn, sir, but is there any reason why I shouldn’t do that with an extension on the socket wrench, sir?” 

Richard quickly turns away from the cameras to hide the blush. They don’t do that sort of thing often, James and him, but often enough that it has a pavlovian effect on him. He grouses at James to stop calling him sir, because that’s what’s expected of him, but also because he’s going to embarrass himself otherwise. James mimes throwing said socket wrench at him, and Jeremy quickly bridges over into the lack-of-beer-section of the day’s filming before someone does someone else an injury. 

It gets better after that. They’ve been tinkering together on much more hopeless cases for so long, they have a system about it. Richard does his best not to aggravate James’ OCD on purpose, and James does his best not to be so damn anal about everything. Once they get immersed in a project, it works surprisingly well. 

By the time the sun starts setting, they are very much behind schedule, but Richard and James are so hammed up that they keep on tinkering after the campfire sequence is filmed. They're eager to get going the next day, see what this strange place has to offer, and even Jeremy comes to their help, if only to shine a light and hand them (wrong) things.

It’s like a scene from home. Normally, in their big garage, the two of them are wriggling beneath a car or bend over a motorbike while Jeremy sits in an armchair in the corner, put there specifically for him, cajoling them with stories and taking the piss while they all get drunk.  
It's quite fun like this too, even without the drink, though they could use one to warm them up once the sun is done shining.

Day 2

The next morning they feel the previous day’s hard work and the cold night in their bones. Richard’s knee aches fiercely, as it’s wont to do since his little roll down the hill in Switzerland. Cold is bad, and sleeping on the ground doesn’t do him any favors, either. He feels like Jeremy looks.  
Obviously the crew notice, and don’t point the cameras at him as he does stretches to loosen everything up. James comes over to fuss for a bit, makes him put on the knee bandage that will be invisible under his trousers, and presses a hand warmer on the joint. They’d never admit it, but it makes them both feel better.

Construction commences early, and today they keep the peace a lot better than the day before. Jeremy is put in charge of collecting the wooden panels that they’ll need for the bodywork, and James and Richard get into their rhythm immediately. 

When the sun sets again, they’ve made some good progress, and decide to let it rest until tomorrow.  
The crew don’t linger for long, all preparing for an early start and the actual trip, and leave the three presenters sitting around their little campfire. The crew’s camp is a few hundred meters away, so that their Discoveries and tents don’t end up in the shots. Richard uses the privacy to stretch out on his jacket and sling his legs over James’ lap. He doesn’t have to say that his knee hurts, James just snorts and wraps his hands around it, rubbing gently to get some warmth into it. Richard relaxes, drapes an arm over his eyes and lets the soft voices of his friends lull him into a light doze. 

It only lasts for a short while, because Jeremy has no sympathy and asks, loudly, “How come the youngest and fittest of us is falling asleep at the dinner table?” 

“Because unlike you, I actually did some blasted work today,” Richard shoots back without moving from his lazy slouch. 

“What about me, then?” James asks, not stopping his ministrations. “I’m old, and I worked, and now I get used as a massage chair.”

"If you’re feeling tense yourself, I could always toss you off," Richard offers casually. He doesn't remove the arm from across his eyes, so he can't appreciate the glare that James sends him. He does, however, hear Jeremy's sputtering. 

"Bloody hell, Hammond, don't discuss your homosexualist activities in front of me. I'm eating here!"

"You're eating gruel that looks and tastes like vomit. No way I could make that worse. Anyway, James?"

"No thanks," James answers haughtily, and Richard snorts.

"You do realize that we are currently in the wilderness of Mongolia, and that it would be a complete waste not to shag here, right?" Richard asks. "I mean, how many people can say that they have shagged in the wilderness of Mongolia?" 

"You really have a one track mind, don't you, Hammond?" Jeremy asks.

"We don't even have any alcohol, why would you-" James breaks off when Richard sits up so quickly he nearly headbuts him in the face. 

"Excuse me?!" Richard asks, bewildered, and James has fallen backwards a little, his weight on his hands, looking startled. 

"Excuse me? James, we've been- we've been together for twelve years. Are you telling me-"

"No-" James interrupts quickly, but Richard goes on as if he hasn't heard. 

"-that you only want to have sex with me if you’re pissed? That this is some kind of drunken fumbling? Or what?"

"No!" James repeats vehemently. "I don't." 

Richard turns to Jeremy, who's started laughing, and says in the most scandalized tone he can manage, "My boyfriend of twelve years thinks we are drunken fuck buddies."

"This is better than daytime telly. I wish the camera crew was still around." 

"That's not what I think!" James says loudly over Jeremy's continued wheezing. He looks quite worried by now, and even forgoes his normal protestations at the term boyfriend, which is a ghastly word in his opinion. They have, after many arguments, settled on ‘partners’ when describing their relationship. Richard only uses ‘boyfriend’ when he wants to annoy James. 

"It better not be!" Richard yells, trying to sound affronted and failing miserably. The corners of his mouth just won’t stop twitching, and James sees it. 

"Oh, you cock," James says, and they dissolve into laughter. 

After some more ribbing at James’ expense, Jeremy excuses himself to his tent, and Richard sidles up to James and starts kissing his neck. James reacts by throwing a handful of grass at him, making him sit back and pout. 

“Put that face away,” James grumbles. 

“But looooove,” Richard whines. Sexily. James is not impressed.

"Hammond, we've been out here for two days which we have spent lugging car parts around and sweating like animals. Usually, the only reason we end up shagging in these circumstances is if we are drunk enough to ignore the smell." 

Richard frowns, but he sees the point. Honestly, their little tryst in Bolivia only happened because they were both pissed out of their minds and anxious about reaching Death Road the next day. Or back in Burma. That was quite bad, too. The heat and humidity and lack of washing facilities in a jungle can really do you in. 

"It's pretty cold here," Richard says, still sulking a little. "We haven't sweated that badly."

"We reek, you pikey," James tells him fondly, and that’s the end of it. For tonight, at least.

Day 3

It still takes them several hours to finish the cocking wiring, but when it’s done, it’s marvelous. They span the canvas of the parachutes over the car’s rollcage to shelter themselves from the elements. While it’s still sunny at the moment, they have done their research about Mongolian weather. The car looks like a shed on wheels, but it’s theirs. They’ve built it with their hands. The engine coughs itself into life, and then they are ready to go. Almost. A teeny tiny argument about who should drive first breaks out. Jeremy argues that it should be him - of course he does - but the other two shut that down quickly. The one person who didn’t help building it doesn’t get to drive it first. It’s between Richard and James, and Richard lifts his fist for their customary rock-paper-scissors, but James shakes his head. 

“I think we should vote,” he says instead of joining the game.

“What?” 

“Democratically. We vote who gets to drive the car.”

“What’s it with you and voting lately? That’s completely stupid,” Richard argues. “Everyone will just vote for themselves!”

But James just grins, and says, “We’ll see. I’ll go first. I vote James.” 

Richards blinks at him a few times, then shakes his head and says, “I… vote Richard?” before turning his frown on Jeremy, who sighs and says, “I vote James.” 

“WHAT?!” 

“You said I can’t drive first because I didn’t help, so I had to make a decision,” he explains. 

“But why _that_ decision?” Richard cries, ramping it up for the cameras a bit. “Vote for me!”

“No no, it’s alright this way. James deserves a treat after he had to work under your tyrannical rule.”

Richard decides to be offended by that, and so he snaps, “How oddly kind of you,” giving Jeremy the stink eye. 

“You know me,” Jeremy proclaims magnanimously. “The kindest, most giving man in the world.”

“Don’t be jealous, Hammo. I’ll let you go next,” James placates, and so they set out. All of four feet, because some cables are attached the wrong way round and the steering is inverted. The camera crew starts laughing at them, and Jeremy shouts that he can’t let James and Richard do anything without his supervision. 

Third time’s the charm, and five minutes later they do finally set out for real. The journey begins. 

~

They’ve been in many deserts, toured through half of Africa, the Australian outback, the US, and the Middle East. Yet the sight is still breathtaking every time.  
Coming to a stop on a hill the car climbed laboriously, they face what is only a tiny slip of the Gobi Desert, stretching before them like the arm of some ancient god enveloping the entire horizon. Clouds draw dark, uneven shapes on the mountainous dunes, while some patches are so bright and sun kissed, they are nearly blinding.  
Jeremy becomes really giddy. This is the part he’d been most excited about, and his good mood is infectious.

On the way, the crew get the chance to shine at some wildlife photography, which results in shaky footage of some sheeps and yaks, and a pissing horse. 

After their slog through the river, they are officially in the Gobi Desert, and a new problem arises immediately. While the ride has been surprisingly smooth so far, with the firm ground and the car’s suspension fine tuned for offroading, the engine is made for durability, not for climbing dunes. Jeremy and Richard have to get out to lower the weight and let James attempt to drive uphill. A second problem arises, and it’s Jame’s four horsepower foot. While he is trying and failing, catapulting arches of sand into the air and his own face, the other two follow the age old rule and leave him behind. Some of the crew follow, setting up for taking drone footage under Phil’s direction, while a cameraman follows the two of them. The rest stays with James, filming his misadventures. 

There’s an oasis down below, greener just by being in the middle of a sandy pit. Suddenly the cameraman exclaims, “Fuck _me_!” when an eagle passes by, and startles a laugh out of all of them. 

Richard finds himself alone with Jeremy for a few moments. He gets that feeling again, the same as when they first landed out here, serene and simultaneously melancholic, and this time he doesn’t seem to be the only one affected. Jeremy has proclaimed on several occasions that he never is as happy as when he's in a desert, and there’s something in his face now. Awe, maybe. A sense of being small. He barely acknowledges Richard’s pat on the shoulder, so Richard gives him some peace and quiet to contemplate the sights alone. 

Instead he goes to find James, who still hasn't managed to scale the first dune and is becoming a bit frustrated about it. Yelling that he has to floor it for once in his life only manages to irritate James further, so a different strategy is needed. Richard resigns himself to walking and digging and finding a way that their plucky little vehicle can manage. 

While the route had been planned beforehand by the research team and Andy, the three presenters are in charge of finding their way with the help of map and compass. The crew isn’t allowed to help and just follow their leaders doggedly until Phil or Andy shout about everyone stopping for some shooting. This, obviously, leads to them exiting the desert a few hundred meters from where they entered it, having effectively wasted half a day. 

By the time it gets dark, they haven’t made nearly enough progress. Andy happily informs them over the radio that he won’t give them any more food just because they are being useless, so they decide to keep going. Not even a burned out fuse can stop them for long. The cold, on the other hand, just might. 

“What the temperature is doing is _plummeting_ ,” Richard says, and because they are in a car with a crate-body and no heater, that kicks off a session of Mr-Wilman-cursing from all three of them. 

“Whose bloody idea was this?!” Jeremy yells at one point. The radio crackles to life long enough for Andy to say, “Yours.” Jeremy begins to sulk. 

“Well, there’s nothing for it,” James states, being rattled both by the bumpy ride and a shivering Hammond nestled into his side, and steps off the gas. 

“We can’t stop yet,” Richard answers. 

“We’re not going to. I have proven before that I can drive while inside of a sleeping bag, and you are just passengers, anyway.”

It’s a good idea, so they get out the sleeping bags and cuddle up like maggots in a ham. 

Day 4

They continue driving until 1AM, when James finally mutters that he’ll go and find the only tree in the vast, ink black void in front of them to wrap the car around if he doesn’t get some sleep. With the sky being as cloudy as it got in the evenings here, there aren’t even any stars out, which is a shame. So far from any kind of settlement, the panorama of the universe must be breathtaking. Richard remembers Aurora Borealis above Norway and Island, and their nights in Africa well. He and James have slept beneath them often enough. 

Not bothering with a fire, they simply eat their army rations cold (not that Jeremy had managed to warm them properly so far) and put up the tents in the shine of the headlights. Sleep is short and uncomfortable, and Richard feels broken when he awakes. His knee doesn’t bend at all for a few minutes. He just sits in his tent, cursing quietly as he massages it gently before doing some careful stretches. He’s glad that James isn’t here to witness his grimacing. Absurdly, maybe, because it would be comforting to have his calm presence there, but Richard hates worrying him. Him and Jeremy both, but mostly James.  
When he finally manages to crawl out of his tent, it’s to find them both in the same condition as him. Broken and knackered and decidedly shabby. The terrain has shaken them apart, if not the car, and they decide to waste some more precious time to improve the seats. 

“For the sake of my aching bum,” Richard grumbles as he grabs the spare foam from one of their boots. Jeremy snorts, and says, “I thought you are used to your arse smarting a bit. James not treating you right anymore?” 

“Not at the moment, he’s not!” Richard exclaims, and ducks the half hearted smack his partner sends after him in passing.

The script calls for the naming of the car, so they entertain themselves by throwing ideas around while fixing it up. Ghengis Car is at the top of the list, but ultimately, they decide on a name that isn’t associated to mass murder, und settle for John. James even goes to the trouble of burning it into the back of the car. 

When they are finally ready to leave, Jeremy slides into the driver seat without comment. 

“Oi, it’s my turn!” Richard exclaims, not amused. Jeremy looks at him with confusion and asks him what he’s on about. 

“James said I could drive after him.”

“Well, you did! You drove yesterday,” Jeremy answers, bewildered. 

“No, I didn’t,” Richard grouses. 

“You _did_ drive yesterday!”

“I didn’t!” 

Jeremy turns to James, who has the audacity to grumble, “He doesn’t remember anything, does he.”

“Yes! Hammond, your memory is getting appalling!” 

“ _I didn’t drive_! I still haven’t driven it!”

Richard has to bend forwards to look at James around the bulk that is Jeremy, but James is turned in the other direction. Richard thinks he catches a glimpse of a smirk, but can’t be sure. With an annoyed huff, he lets himself fall back into the seat, feeling betrayed. Jeremy, eager to change the subject perhaps, immediately launches into Mongolian trivia, and Richard does, indeed, forget to sulk for the moment. He is sure, though, that he hasn’t driven the car yesterday.

They reach the watery bit quickly, thanks to Richard being in charge of navigation instead of James. It’s a river, albeit a small one, and Jeremy doesn’t lose any time driving in. 

“See, we’re finally getting somewhere. Not like yesterday when James was driving. You just need someone with skill and precision and-” 

Ice cold mud sprays up into their faces. Richard quickly bends over the map, trying to shield it. There is screaming and cursing. Thankfully, it’s time for a lunch break anyway, so they get to dry their shirts over a fire. It’s a miracle that they don’t get singed or something, and add insult to injury. 

“That’s not gone well,” Jeremy says, grinning sheepishly. 

“You just be careful you don’t catch another bout of pneumonia,” Richard warns, wagging a finger at him threateningly. 

“How could he, we don’t have any alcohol with us,” James adds, rubbing his hair dry after having stuck his head into the river to get the mud off. 

“If you three idiots didn’t suffer so fetchingly,” Andy complains, loudly, “I’d kick your arses for wasting so much time.” 

“It’ll make good telly, though,” Jeremy counters. 

“Your moaning when you run out of food will, too,” is Andy’s reply, and that gets them back into the car and on the way again. 

~

Watching John pogo up a hill is a magnificent sight. Jeremy’s delighted laughter can even be heard above the car’s squeaky hopping and rattling.  
The happy mood is soon gone, though, when they reach what the map calls the Bumpy Meadow. Mostly because traversing this little valley turns out to be pure torture.  
Richard’s nearly thrown out of the car on multiple occasions, and in order to prevent that, he has to brace himself with all four limbs. That means that every bump drives a hot-white pain up his knee, and he can only imagine the kind of agony Jeremy’s ruined back must be in. From the groaning and moaning on the other side, James can’t be faring much better. 

After forty long minutes of that bone shaking rollercoaster, they finally are on flat ground again, and stop for a precious moment. The crew car that followed for filming pulls up beside them, and the occupants look just as unhappy as them. 

“I hate you,” Jeremy tells Andy through the open window. 

“Believe me, I hate myself too right now,” comes the tired reply. 

They drag on. Past the Creepy Teepee, and over wide, flowing hills. The wind changes and cuts through their clothes and skin all the way down to the bone, and Richard starts complaining about the cold again. At this rate, he won’t be able to walk for the rest of the trip. 

“Jeremy,” Richard starts again, because he needs something to take his mind off of the hot poker that used to be a perfectly good joint. He launches into what is a well planned out speech about all the reasons he should drive, but before he can get more than two sentences in, Jeremy says, “Yes, yes, go on,” and just agrees, albeit in a long-suffering tone. Now Richard is suspicious. He’d expected more of an argument. From the annoyed frown on James’ face, he had, too. Those two clearly had something concocted. Usually, James was terrible at keeping secrets from him, and Richard would simply sit in his lap and use all of his charms to get it out of him. Sadly, that was impossible at the moment, since James still insists on staying abstinent until they’ve all had a good wash. 

“Can I drive, can I drive,” Jeremy parrots, sliding out of the car cumbersomely. They switch places, and both of the others give Richard looks when they see how carefully he moves, but refrain from saying anything. The dashboard cams would catch it, and depending on the direction they will take with the film, they’d have to cut the whole scene out. They’ve mostly left the “We hate each other” schtick behind, since it became hard to uphold the image when two of the three were a couple and followed the third out of the BBC’s fold. But Richard has always smiled into the cameras and said, “I’m completely fine,” and made the viewers believe it, so open concern from his vitriolic best friends is not something he wants in the film. 

He’s honestly excited when everyone’s back onboard and he can finally, finally drive John the mountaineer for the very first time.  
He’s barely given it any gas at all when Jeremy yells, “Stop stop stop!”

“What?!”

“This is the perfect campsite,” Jeremy exclaims, gesturing at the, admittedly, beautiful scenery around them. The setting sun is turning the lake to their left into melted gold. 

“But-” 

“No, no, he’s right,” James quickly agrees, and they’re both suddenly out of the car and walking off. Richard turns off the engine, but that doesn’t mean he resigns himself to his fate. He keeps arguing all through the starting of the fire and the pitching of the tent, mostly at James, who’s always willing to keep a good argument going. Phil lets the cameras roll as they keep squabbling, until Jeremy walks around the car and says with a face full of horror, “Have you seen the ration boxes for tonight and tomorrow?” 

Richard has a sinking feeling, and the sudden excitement in Andy’s eyes tells him all he needs to know. 

~

Jeremy tries to barter with Andy about the food situation. 

“We can just act like we’re hungry!”

“You’re the one going on and on about how other shows always fake everything. Time for you to put your money where your mouth is.” 

“We can always cook and eat Hammond,” James suggests. 

“Oi!”

Andy is steadfast, and it’s the end of it. They are all dead on their feet, so tonight nobody is willing to sit at the campfire for long. Still, sleep eludes Richard, cold and sort of hungry as he is, and he keeps tossing and turning in his sleeping bag to get warm. That’s when he sees the shine of a flashlight outside. 

"Hammond," comes a quiet voice from the other side of the tent flap. For a petty moment, he thinks of ignoring it, feigning sleep, but decides it's going to be more entertaining to see where the conversation goes.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?"

"Why?" he asks innocently, biting back a laugh at the huff of annoyance that elicits. 

"It's very cold," James finally grumbles. 

Richard is grinning as he wriggles far enough out of his sleeping bag to free his arms and open the tent flap. 

"Here for a cuddle?" he asks a disgruntled looking James. 

"Yes. Now shove over."

Richard doesn't.

"I thought I reek too much for physical contact," he says instead.

"You do, but I'd rather suffer that than freeze to death."

"Weren't you at the Northpole?"

"Yes. Unlike you," James snipes back, and snorts when Richard pulls a face at him. Grumbling about how James doesn't deserve to be warm, he finally makes room, and James crawls in, huffing and puffing the whole time. Richard even gets a grope or two in before they are settled, and James has to lie on top of one of his hands and keep the other in his to stop them from wandering. 

Richard feels compelled to try one more time. He whispers, “You know, if you care more about being warm than about the smell, we could-”

“Go to sleep, Hammond,” James orders, and presses a kiss to his temple before closing his eyes. 

Sleeping in James’ arms is better than sleeping in some of the fanciest hotels. Until James starts snoring, that is. 

Day 5

They are crossing a valley that used to be the bottom of a lake, Richard thinks, his eyes glued to the gnarly scar of rock and earth to their left. He shivers, thinking about what it must have been like, this small apocalypse, and how this country just swallowed it. Fifteen people dead instead of fifteen thousand, or fifteen million, had it been anywhere else. He can’t wait to see the drone footage.

The camera car stuck in the mire manages to lighten the mood considerably. Not only do the three presenters, but the whole rest of the team, take the piss. John winches them out no problem. Jeremy is wearing the smug face all the way until the rain starts. After that, it gets quite miserable again. 

The little shepherds’ hut is an important landmark for navigation. Phil has them stop to film another scene, and thankfully the rain has seized for now.  
At some point in the afternoon, they even manage to find something that passes for a road in this country, and their elation is only partially for the cameras. Richard almost feels spited when it ends so abruptly right behind the broken bridge. 

Rather Boggy And Sad turns out to be a bigger, wetter version of the Bumpy Meadow, and the rain of the last one and a half days can’t have helped.  
James, as if left by everything holy, just goes for it. He even speeds up, making Jeremy and Richard scream when they are nearly catapulted from the car as soon as they hit the first mounts.

“Why do you finally discover your lead foot _here_ of all places?!” Richard shrieks. 

James stays stubborn, though, and keeps going despite their colorful protests, and immediately buries it. Jeremy and Richard have to get out and free John, and when they have to do it again only fourteen yards later, it becomes clear that they will spend the foreseeable future on foot.  
Richard has to get engineering involved, and as he uses a car jack to pull John out, he hears Jeremy whisper, “I didn’t know he could do that.” 

“It’s because he’s from the country. This is what our vacations in the lake district look like,” James answers. Richard gives them the finger. 

But not all is bad. When Jeremy loses his shoes, for example, Richard nearly pisses himself laughing, and again when James falls into the bog.  
Then he rolls the car, and for a moment has to close his eyes and breathe because he knows, he _knows_ the things he’ll have to listen to when his two colleagues have processed what happened. 

There is a quiet conversation he only catches snippets of, so he calls, “It’s okay! I’m used to this!” 

He hears Jeremy wheeze. 

~

Richard, feeling like a ninja, uses the absolute darkness of the night to sneak over to the crew camp and the Discovery that he thinks must hold rations. Andy can go fuck himself. He orients himself by simply walking towards the distant shine of the crew camp fire like a moth, not daring to turn on a flashlight and stumbling over every rock there is. When he finally reaches the car, he’s mildly surprised he hasn’t broken anything.  
Out here, at night, it’s so quiet that every little sound is amplified, so when there’s the shuffle of feet it has Richard drop to the floor and roll under the car immediately. Two sets of boots walk around the front of the car and past, and the quiet voices tell him that it must be Phil and Kiff. They seem to be heading to their tents just at the edge of the fire’s pool of light. Once silence has returned, Richard crawls back out. His entire front is damp now, and his clothes probably have a new layer of dirt on them, but nothing stops him from getting his hands on the price now. The fist full of energy bars are well worth a little more mud, in his opinion.

The last embers of their own fire guide him back to where his tent must be. He falls flat on his face several times, adding a few bruises and scrapes to the assortment. It feels like ages before he finally climbs into his tent, cursing quietly, and nearly screams when he comes face to face with James. 

“What are you doing here?!” he hisses, a hand clutched to his chest. 

“This is my tent, what are _you_ doing here?” James shoots back, and Richard only notices now that James is, indeed, wrapped in his sleeping bag, blinking at him bleary eyed. 

“Oh, ehm-”

“Oh, you ridiculous man, you’ve dragged half of Mongolia in with you!” James complains, sitting up now and struggling out of his sleeping bag. 

“I come bearing gifts, though,” Richard says quickly, and pulls out one of the energy bars he stole. James squints, then he raises an eyebrow. 

“Where did you get that from?”

“Don’t you worry your shabby little head about that. All you need to know is that there is more where this came from, and that I’m willing to share,” Richard says, and makes a show of letting his eyes rake over James’ body before returning to his face and adding, “For the right price.”

James huffs a laugh, shaking his head. 

“You are incorrigible.” 

“I try.”

“Come here, then,” James whispers, and Richard nearly head butts him in his hurry to get his lips on James’. 

The kiss is slow and deep, intense in the way James goes about everything he does. Richard is impatient, though, slips his tongue in, tries to make it dirty in the way he knows James loves. It earns him a moan, and he silently celebrates his victory, ready to let his hands wander up under James’ shirt, when his partner suddenly breaks the kiss. 

“Nice try,” he whispers against Richard’s lips. Then he pulls back and takes a bite of a chocolate bar. 

Richard looks at him stunned, then his hands go to the pockets of his jacket. Empty. 

“You filthy thief!” he shouts, and James quickly shushes him. 

“Here, you can have one back,” he amends, holding one of the energy bars out to Richard who snatches it away forcefully. 

“I want them all back! You cheated!”

“I paid, fair and square. Maybe if you behave, you can have some of the others.” 

“I don’t want to behave,” Richard pouts, giving his own lap a significant look before turning pleading eyes on James. He is not to be convinced.

“You have hands, but I’d advise you wash them first, seeing as you’re covered in mud again. The lake was that way, I think,” James answers sweetly, pointing in a random direction. Richard huffs and angrily munches on his chocolate bar. 

Day 6 

The land changes today, when they reach the forests the map had promised. Otherworldly rock formations and the heavy, fresh smell of pine, along with a whole new plethora of animals their cameramen can fail at filming, make it an exciting experience.  
Seeing a forest again makes something ache in Richard’s chest after the endless, rolling hills they’ve been surrounded by in the last five days. He feels a bit silly for missing home, as used to travelling as he is, but they’ve been so far removed from anything human, it just gets to him a bit. Trees are nice, though, and very good, because it means they are getting closer to Mörön by the minute. He ignores the fact that the map says there are mountains and a rather sizable River of Despair between them and their destination still. 

He folds the map and decides to bring up a point of argument from yesterday they hadn’t bothered to finish in the aftermath of the Boggy and Sad mess. The alone time, each as far away as possible from the others, had been sorely needed.

“I want to drive,” Richard says into the companionable silence. The other two groan. 

“No, listen! It’s my turn, and don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to gaslight me into believing I forgot that I already did, you turds!” 

Honestly, he’d gotten a little worried the day before. It wouldn’t do for his memory problems to flare back up after all these years.

“Love,” James says gently, and he never does that on film, ever. “Love, you were in the driver seat for all of five seconds before you rolled the car. You don’t get to drive. You just don’t.” 

Richard sputters denials. Jeremy nearly shoves him out of the car for it. 

~

In order to get a better view of their surroundings, they make for higher ground, bunny hopping up some slopes. It’s not like they have any more food to lose. There are three more chocolate bars in his jacket pocket. Nobody has noticed their disappearance so far, and he plans to share them for dinner when the ever vengeful Mr. Wilman isn’t looking. 

Day 7

After reaching the river in the light of another beautiful sunset, they had made a show of cooking the most disgusting soup in the world, and spent another night barely sleeping. Jeremy had looked honestly touched when Richard had slipped him the last remaining chocolate bar on the way to his tent.  
The next morning, all bright and early, the journey resumes. Everyone’s ready for some civilization again. The bright blue sky and warm sun are like a sign from above that maybe today won’t leave them ready to die or kill each other.

It takes some time, but they find a spot. The river is broad and looks relatively shallow, and they decide to try here. That’s when Andy comes over. 

“I’ll be honest with you. This isn’t the spot where the location scouts crossed, but it’s up to you if you want to try.”

“What about you guys?” Jeremy asks, looking at the Discoveries. They had been prepared to handle all the terrain they might encounter, of course, but water is always tricky.

Andy looks down the river and nods to himself. “If you make it, we should manage, too. Just try and find a spot that doesn’t drown the car.”

Despite his words, he has some of the crew put on life jackets and on the ready. Just in case the trio screw up worse than expected.  
And so they drive into the drink, and it’s James at the wheel again, driving like a madman. The water is ice cold and quickly rises up to their knees. It’s so cold, in fact, that Richard’s knee goes blissfully numb, but he can imagine what it will feel like later.

Obviously, they get stuck, and obviously reversing is impossible. When James and Jeremy, a not inconsiderable weight, leave John, shouting at the tops of their lungs about their plums retracting, Richard can feel the current shift the car. The strength of the deceptively calm waters is pushing at John’s long, straight flank. James trips and almost gets pulled away, had Jeremy not grabbed onto his hand and pulled him back. Richard feels the panic rise. Even when it doesn’t look too bad from the outside, from dry land, water can be a terrible foe. He still sometimes dreams about the time he was in a sinking car. But they’ve messed about in it a lot over the years, two Toybotas and every bloody river crossing in the specials, he’s not letting it get the better of him now. 

“Cut the doors off!” he shouts, and it helps, even if Jeremy moans about his only contribution drifting away. The bigger problem are the boulders, though. Someone has to remove them. Jeremy, surprisingly, decides that Richard should stay in the car. 

“Honestly, hamster, the one person who doesn’t have a solid footing is you. And the water’s going up to my chest already, you could barely keep your head above!”

“Alright, alright! But be careful. You have to hold on to the car,” Richard warns. “And don’t take any chances. And make sure you don’t slip.”

“Yes, you big mum,” James grumbles, but when Richard looks back at him sharply he smiles. “Don’t worry, the crew will pull us out if something happens,” he reassures before getting into position. 

“We’re both going simultaneously?” Jeremy asks, and Richard can’t keep the laugh in, imagining these two men doing what they’re doing. The rest of the day will be hideous with them, wet and cold and going on about their heroic rescue. If it works, of course. 

He feels the car move again, and there is sputtering and cursing from the back. Suddenly, James cheers, and a moment later a breathless Jeremy says, “I got it. I think I got it.” 

So Richard reverses, careful not to hit either of them. When they are both in front of John instead of behind, he gives them a cheeky grin and keeps on driving all the way out to the bank. 

“Thanks for the lift, Hammond,” Jeremy calls, annoyed, wading out. James follows, looking even more like a drowned cat with his long hair plastered flat to his face. 

As soon as they are back at the car, they ban him to the passenger seat again, and James claims his position behind the wheel. Thankfully, their second attempt goes a lot better, and when they reach the other side whole, they high five each other like the old buggers they are. 

~

There is some more bunny hopping, over boulders this time, and Jeremy is on the radio with Andy, yelling about how the map hasn’t warned them about this, and Andy is yelling back that he hadn’t expected them to go this way and therefore it’s their own damn fault. 

Richard feels like weeping of joy when they reach the power line. The others are not far behind. There is actual, honest to god whimpering going on. 

~

Reaching Mörön elicits screams of joy from the entire crew. It’s not really what Richard would call a pretty town, but after feeling like the last human beings at world’s end, this bit of civilization does a lot to banish loneliness. Electricity, internet and people going about their daily lives. Somewhere, there’s even a hotel waiting for them, just for one night. 

After entering the city proper, Andy allows them magnanimously to wolf down some cheese sandwiches before filming the pub scene. Everyone’s very grateful. The presenters, because they are starving, the rest of the crew because they were getting a bit tired of the whinging. 

Never has a simple cheese sandwich with pickles tasted so good. 

It’s in the hotel, late in the afternoon, when Richard gets accosted by James. He’s just reached his room, fumbling open the door, when he’s unceremoniously shoved inside. Hot lips land on his. Richard gets a bit lost in the kiss, forgets about everything, until a bang startles him. James is grinning down at him, having just kicked the door closed. 

“Hello,” he says, his nose nearly bumping into Richard’s, he’s so close. 

“We don’t have time,” Richard whispers back. 

“Yes, we do.” 

"The others-" 

"Are going to dinner. Do you really want to try Mongolian food?" 

Richard quickly shakes his head. 

"Didn't think so," James grins, and dives back in for another kiss that Richard turns dirty immediately much to James’ approval. 

“I thought we stink too much,” Richard mumbles when they part for breath, unable to keep the teasing words to himself. 

“That’s why we’ll continue this in the shower,” James answers brightly, grabs Richard’s hand, and drags him into the bathroom.  
They divest themselves of their clothing quickly, not bothering with making a show of it. Their clothes are covered in dried mud, and Richard’s trousers are made from the canvas of a tent. They lob them into the corner, fully intending to leave them there when they catch the flight out tomorrow.  
The water takes its sweet time to get warm, and finally they can pile into the stall, shivering and giggling and cramped in the too small space. 

At first they try to wash themselves as quickly and efficiently as possible, but after Richard catches the third elbow to the side, he takes the soap away from James and orders him to hold still. James obeys and simply watches Richard build up a lather, and bends his head forward a little when Richard buries his fingers in the long strands of hair and starts massaging. His eyes drift shut, relaxing at the gentle ministrations, and a small smile settles on his lips. While James isn’t big on casual touching at the best of times, he does enjoy it when Richard plays with his hair, likes the intimacy of his lover’s caress. It’s something they figured out slowly, in the beginning, when their friendship evolved into this and everything was new. 

Richard takes his time, enjoying the soothing heat of the water and the unobserved closeness of James, enjoys the chance of looking his fill uninterrupted. That face he loves. The crinkles and laughter lines that he’s watched growing. The long lashes that hold a few drops of water, but are so pale that you barely see them from afar. The slight sunburn on his cheeks and nose that Richard knew he’d get.  
They’ve both gotten old, older than he’d ever imagined back when he’d been doing PR and had stepped in front of a startled looking motoring journalist with a charming if rehearsed smile and tried to praise a car that had been mediocre at best. He doesn’t even remember what car it was, now, but he remembers that first meeting with James in bright, technicolor detail. 

Richard shuffles them around until the water is washing the soap out of James’ hair. He lets his hands slip down to James’ shoulders, and further until they come to rest on his chest, the skin warm and slick. Arms close around him and pull him in, and the unmistakable feeling of an erection poking his hip makes the gentle emotions that had preoccupied him until now quickly morph into the desperate arousal of earlier.  
James has opened his eyes and is looking at him again, pupils large. 

“Hey there,” is all Richard can whisper before his lips are captured in a bruising kiss, and then he’s lost in the slick slide of tongues and hands and wet skin. A hand gropes for his ass, while another slips between them to wrap around his own growing erection, and Richard has to break the kiss to gasp.

"Do you want to in here? Can you stand for that long?" James asks. 

"I'll fucking fly if it means I finally get shagged. Hell, James, don't stop!"

"Bloody tease," James mutters into his ear, voice rough, before nipping at Richard's jaw. "Sitting pressed against each other for days and you try and make it _hard_ for me." 

The words are accompanied by the buck of his hips, and it drives Richard wild. He's shuddering despite the hot water, and pressing back against James, mouth running on automatic.

"Fuck, _James_. Could have had me. Anytime, anywhere. I'm yours. Just have to take what you want. Fuck, just-" 

"Now where would have been the fun in that?" James chuckles, and it's the filthiest sound in the whole wide world. Even hotter than the purr of a Zonda. Richard's knees go all weak and wobbly, and finally for good reasons instead of the last week’s escapades. James’ arm around his middle just holds on tighter. 

“Want to be inside you. Fuck, that’s all I thought about for days. Get you warm and alone and just take you-” 

“Then do it!” Richard all but whines, but he’s so far past caring that he doesn’t even resent the chuckle that elicits. 

“Turn around,” James orders, and it takes a little maneuvering in the confined space, but as soon as Richard is facing the stall wall, hands on the tiles in front of him for stability, James plasters himself along the entire length of his body.  
One hand snakes around his middle, wanders down his stomach until it reaches his hard, straining cock again. Richard loves James’ hands. Long, agile pianist’s fingers, and rough from working on their bikes. The best of both worlds, in his opinion.  
James gives him a few quick tugs, causing Richard to moan, and again louder when slick fingers enter him. He tries to push back, earning a hot puff of breath against his ear when James chuckles. 

“Impatient?”

“God, yes,” he answers, and swears when James finds that one spot. 

“Me, too,” James murmurs, and his fingers disappear, both from Richard’s arse and his cock. Before he can make his protests known, though, James nudges his feet further apart, careful not to make them slip on the wet floor. A moment later he can feel the head of James’ cock at his entrance, pushing gently, more teasing than anything, infuriatingly slow as usual. Richard turns his head in order to complain, but he ends up looking right into James’ eyes, sees the hunger in them, and the love, and all he can do is start kissing him again. It’s messy, and a little awkward over his shoulder, but it gets their need for each other across all the same. 

Then James finally breaches him, sinks in all the way, filling Richard up in a delicious slow slide. It makes them both moan. One hand comes up to rest against the wall next to Richard’s, the other wraps around his middle again, pulling him tightly against the bigger, heavier body behind him. That’s how they remain for a few seconds, composing themselves. The two backed beast, joined without any space for cold between them. 

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” James breathes, rolling his hips against Richard’s arse, rubbing against his prostate. It’s a divine feeling, being so full.  
Then James pulls almost all the way out, and slams back in. Does it again, and again, a little faster every time, building up the pace. It sends jolts through Richard, has him scrabble against the wall to get some purchase and push back. The arm around him helps, keeps them in sync, and they settle into a fast, hard rhythm.

The tiny stall is filled with carnal sounds. Despite what their public personas suggest, James is the one more vocal in his enjoyment, his groans and praise ringing out loudly over the lewd slap of wet skin on skin. Richard encourages it, breathes moans of “yes,” and “just like that,” and “James,” always James. It’s a good thing that it’s the middle of the afternoon here, because if there were people in the surrounding rooms, they’d get a barrage of complaints. Like this, they can get lost in each other. 

The hand around his middle slips down and blissfully wraps around his cock. James doesn’t even bother to jerk him off, just holds on and lets the power of his thrusts push Richard into his hand. 

It’s so good. Too good. Richard wants to draw it out, wants to savour it, but it’s been a hard week, and he’s wanted to touch James so much more than he was allowed. In the end, it only takes a few more thrusts, and he’s coming, hot and hard all over the tiles. He spasms around James, who ruts against him in a mad frenzy, before he buries himself one more time and shouts his own release into Richard’s shoulder. 

They are shaking together, heaving and barely able to move, holding each other up when all they want to do is collapse.  
Sadly, moving becomes a necessity when the water suddenly turns ice cold. Shrieking, they practically fall out of the stall, spraying water everywhere. Standing in the tiny bathroom, dripping wet and shivering for totally different reasons now, they look at each other and burst into laughter.

“The timing,” James gasps through chortles, obediently bowing down to let Richard wrap him in a towel and scrub his hair dry. “Just imagine if the hot water had run out twenty seconds earlier.”

“That would _not_ have been a happy ending, would it,” Richard laughs, and lets James return the favor. 

After getting dry, they don’t bother with clothes, just crawl into bed and throw the blankets over themselves. It’s still light outside, of course, late afternoon, but they have slept in worse conditions. After the exhaustion of the past few days, being sated and warm and in each other's arms like that, nothing can disturb them. 

“Did I treat you right, then?” comes the sleepy mumble from next to him, and Richard has to wake up fully again to laugh at the words and the smug tone. 

“Yes, you numpty,” he says, and cuddles closer to fall asleep.


End file.
